One False Step
by PemberleyFan
Summary: "One false step involves her in endless ruin. . . " In this story, one (literal) false step causes a chain reaction of events that will result in Elizabeth's forced marriage to Darcy. Now a completed story available for sale on Amazon. This is only the first three chapters.
1. Chapter One

"This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!"

The morning after Darcy and his cousin had left Rosings Elizabeth found herself wandering in the park yet again, eager to find a private place where she could continue studying the contents of the startling letter he had given her just one day before. Although the parsonage was only occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Collins at this moment, it still felt too crowded for Elizabeth's taste. Wanting as much seclusion as possible she made her way to a secluded grove she thought of as hers, next to a fresh spring that trailed away into a noisy brook, and sat on the end of a fallen log before pulling the letter from the pocket of her spencer and opening it.

With a renewed desire not to believe a word Darcy said, she read again his defense of his actions in regards to Jane and Bingley, but the passage of twenty four hours did not change the conclusions she had reached the day before. She had already nearly memorized the letter, but she could not help reading through it repeatedly, hoping to find some new meaning, some way of interpreting its assertions, that would excuse the angry accusations she had hurled at Darcy during their spirited conversation. After careful reflection, forcing herself to an unflinching honesty, she reluctantly admitted to herself that Darcy's behavior in this instance might be considered reasonable, if high-handed. She could not quite forgive him for it, of course. But neither could she completely condemn his desire to protect his friend, even though he had unintentionally hurt Jane. His motives had been good. If she herself had been a detached observer, not aware of Jane's true feelings, she might even have approved of what he had done.

Reluctantly she moved on to the sections which dealt with Wickham, reading these passages much more slowly today than yesterday. Perhaps there might be some detail she had missed that would exonerate her former favorite. After reading Darcy's account of their interactions several more times, she made herself lay the letter aside for a moment, concentrating on recalling every detail that Wickham had told her, weighing the merits of each person's story, the pertinent details, and especially considering how Darcy had trusted her with information about his own sister. She weighed each man's story in her mind, as best she could recall their differing account, and then took up the letter again.

It was no use. She found that to blame Darcy regarding Wickham was now impossible. One man had displayed all the appearance of goodness, but the other, all the substance. When she closed her eyes, she could still see Wickham's handsome features in her mind and picture again the charming persona he had presented, the very picture of an ideal gentleman. But when her eyes were opened, that vision vanished as abruptly as the ripples in the stream next to her.

She had arrived back at the same conclusion she had reached yesterday: Darcy was a much better man than she had credited, and she had let her own prejudice blind her to that fact.

She did not regret her refusal of his offer. Even though his character was better than she had thought, his disposition was proven to be just as disagreeable. His application for her hand had been an exercise in insults, and his anger at her refusal was not worthy of a gentleman. The tone of his letter, too, showed condescension and arrogance. He was all haughtiness, pride, and insolence. She may have spoken to him in anger, but at least some of what she said had been the truth. He was still, of all the men she had known, one of the most unpleasant.

It was not likely that she and Darcy would ever meet again, and even less likely that he would ever want to renew his addresses. But if he did her answer would remain the same, although she would take care to couch it in much more gentle terms. As a gentleman of good breeding he at least deserved that much courtesy. In the meantime she would do her best to put the whole sorry incident out of her mind. She was not made for unhappiness, and she was determined that memories of the ill-tempered Mr. Darcy would not spoil her last few days in Kent.

She had been in the grove for some time now, and a look at the sun's position in the sky showed it was past time for her to return to the parsonage. Accordingly she rose and turned back, still holding the letter and reading intently as she went, her eyes fixed on particular passages, reading it one last time before she would put it aside for what she hoped would be the last time. She was about to replace the letter in her pocket when the heel of her shoe struck an upturned tree root and threw her abruptly off balance. Darcy's letter flew from her hands. She fell hard on the packed dirt of the path, both arms outstretched before her.

In a moment she was standing upright again. She had not been badly hurt, but the heel of her right hand was red and swollen, and apt to cause pain when she pressed on it. Her dress had several stains and marks on it to show where she had fallen. Annoyed, she began to brush the dirt away, but just that light pressure on the palm of her hand made it throb painfully. She knew she had to return to the parsonage at once to wrap it before the swelling became any worse.

Her dignity had now been injured twice in a short time—once by Darcy's infuriating letter, and once by her own actions. Irritated by her carelessness, she retrieved the letter and its envelope with her good hand and impatiently thrust them in her pocket. With all the dignity she could muster, she slowly made her way back down the path towards the parsonage.

Behind her, one single page of Mr. Darcy's letter still lay in the path, overlooked by its distracted owner.

_"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter," _it began in Darcy's distinctive hand_, "by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. . . . "_

**_This story copyrighted 2015 by Elaine Owen. No copying or publishing allowed without express permission of the author._**


	2. Chapter Two

Charlotte exclaimed over the injured hand when she saw it and in short order had it well wrapped, with a soothing salve inside the bandages. Elizabeth was bemused by the attention given to such a trifling hurt.

"You mustn't fuss over it so, Charlotte, it is really nothing," she told her friend affectionately. "And it is no more than I deserve for being so careless."

"Shush, do not let Mr. Collins hear you say that," her friend answered. "I have told him that your injury unfortunately prevents us both from attending Lady Catherine at tea this afternoon. He, of course, will still be going, but he feels certain that her ladyship will forgive your absence on this occasion, given the circumstances."

"In that case, you may tell him that my hand was much more badly hurt than I had first thought, and it is possible I will not be recovered for several days."

Charlotte asked Elizabeth exactly what she had tripped over, and Elizabeth described the obstacle and its location.

"You were quite a ways from the parsonage, Lizzy. I have rarely gone so far myself. "

"The woods and fields are very pretty at this time of year, Charlotte. It is impossible not to admire them each day."

"But you were not looking at them when you tripped, were you? Something else had your attention."

Elizabeth looked at her friend sharply and Charlotte met her gaze evenly. "If I were to say that your mind was distracted by thoughts of a certain gentleman from Derbyshire, would I be correct? Or do I ask too much?"

A feeling of lightness and relief came over Elizabeth at her friend's perceptive insight. It would never do to talk about Darcy to almost anyone else. Truthfully, it was a secret she felt she would have to carry on her own even after returning to Hertfordshire, for she would struggle to tell Jane about her conversation with Darcy without bringing up Bingley's name. But since Charlotte had already guessed something amiss, and Elizabeth was assured of her discretion, she had no fear in confirming her suspicions. Still, she would not make it too easy.

"You know I have no affection for Mr. Darcy, Charlotte, so why would you think that my mind is preoccupied by him?"

"You have not been yourself at all for the last two days, Lizzie, wandering off by yourself at the slightest opportunity, and not carrying on your usual conversation. And then my maid told me Mr. Darcy called here the other night when you were home with a headache and Mr. Collins and I were at Rosings."

"Your maid is correct, and so were you, when you said that Mr. Darcy might have an interest in me."

Charlotte's face brightened. "Did he declare himself? I should so like to see you happily settled."

"Then you may be content, for I am happily settled to be _without _him."

"Lizzie! Do you mean to say that you turned him down?"

"With no regrets whatsoever. I wish you could have heard his proposal. You would not blame me at all for refusing him."

Charlotte listened carefully as Elizabeth described Darcy's insults to her family, but she was not as entertained as Elizabeth had expected her to be. "Elizabeth, have you no idea of the compliment he paid you by making his addresses to you? He is a man of great consequence. "

"Oh, I felt very complimented indeed! Rarely have I been so insulted and complimented at the same time, in fact. I wish he had flattered me more by insulting my aunts, uncles, and cousins as well as my parents and sisters. Perhaps then I would have fallen at his feet in gratitude at his offer. He expected nothing less."

"I am sorry that he was not more fluent in his affections, but I have never heard anyone here criticize his character. He is quite the gentleman. You are not likely to ever receive such an offer from such a man again."

Charlotte's words were so similar to those used by Mr. Collins in his failed proposal that Elizabeth had to hide a smile.

"You know he and I would never suit. I could not make him happy, nor he, me."

"Happiness in marriage is a matter of chance, Lizzy. When two people come from similar backgrounds and want the same things in life, and they spend so much time together in the same household, with all the normal intimacies involved, affection will develop over time."

Elizabeth longed to ask her friend if she had yet discovered this affection with Mr. Collins, but she would not bring up such a delicate topic. Instead, she said, "Your idea of marital happiness is very different from mine, Charlotte. You make it sound more like an inevitability then a matter of chance, though we both know many unhappy couples. I am not content to take a chance, as you say, and hope that I will come to love my husband over time. Such an irretrievable step should be taken with at least a little likelihood of success."

"So this is what you have been brooding over the last two days? Have you regretted your answer at all?"

"No, but I have regretted some of the things I said to him when I refused him, and especially how I said them. I have yet to tell you about the letter he gave me the next morning."

"He wrote you a letter!" Charlotte's face showed her amazement.

Elizabeth described what Darcy had written about Jane and Bingley, and there, Charlotte had the satisfaction of being able to point out that what she had said about Jane previously was correct.

"If only she had known then what she must learn now!" Charlotte said, not without sympathy. "A lady must always express more than she feels, so as to encourage the gentleman along the way. I hope that she will be more demonstrative next time."

"I doubt there will be a next time, Charlotte. Jane was quite attached to Mr. Bingley. I wish that well-meaning friends from Derbyshire would allow their intimate friends from Hertfordshire to determine such things on their own. Bingley needed no guidance from his friend at all, and Mr. Darcy and his sisters should not have interfered."

"You cannot completely blame Mr. Darcy there, Elizabeth. If he had not interfered we may be certain his sisters would have done so, probably with the same outcome. And Mr. Bingley himself is to blame, for allowing himself to be influenced to such a degree. He ought to be his own man."

"I believe there is blame enough for everyone involved to share, Charlotte, and plenty left over."

Charlotte asked about Wickham and Darcy. "What did Mr. Darcy have to say about your friend in the militia? Or did he even address the situation?"

"He addressed it at great length. And this, Charlotte, is what has been most vexing to me. I am afraid that I allowed my own pride to be injured so much by Mr. Darcy's comment about me last autumn, that I was completely blinded by Wickham when he claimed to be injured by Mr. Darcy as well."

With the greatest curiosity Charlotte urged Elizabeth to tell her the whole story, which Elizabeth did, omitting the part about Darcy's sister. He had not given her permission to relate anything about Miss Darcy to anyone, and she could not help but feel that advertising the poor girl's folly would be a cruelty as great as what she had already endured.

"And do you believe him, Elizabeth? Do you now think Wickham was to be blamed, and Darcy completely innocent?"

"I am afraid that I do. Their stories coincide completely right up until one detail. Both agree that Wickham was a favorite of the old Mr. Darcy, and that he was sent to Cambridge by that man and given every possible advantage. They agree that the old Mr. Darcy's will left a living to Wickham, and that Wickham did not get it. But they disagree as to why. Wickham says that Darcy disregarded his father's will and gave the living to another; Darcy claims Wickham turned the living down in lieu of three thousand pounds, which he then squandered away."

"That does not sound like a detail, but like the heart of the whole matter. How are we to know which version is true?"

"I do not see how Mr. Darcy could disregard his father's will," Elizabeth said slowly. "Surely Wickham would have had an avenue of redress if he did. And Wickham did say that the living was left to him on some sort of condition, which he did not name. Besides all this, Mr. Darcy did tell me that I could apply to Colonel Fitzwilliam to have every detail confirmed."

"Then you may depend on it, Mr. Darcy's version is the real history. Poor Mr. Darcy, to be so maligned by Wickham at every turn! And then to have you, of all people, bring up such accusations to him as well, when he most hoped to win your hand. I hope you were temperate in your response."

Elizabeth looked away momentarily. "I was not temperate at all, Charlotte," she said in a low voice. "I let my temper get the better of me and spoke rashly about things that I did not know about at all. That is the worst part of all."

"But you do not regret your choice?"

"Not at all! He was still as ill-tempered a man as I have ever seen. He may behave in a principled way, but he does not speak that way! Allow me to let you read how he started his letter to me."

Charlotte gave her consent, and Elizabeth retreated to her bedroom upstairs to find the letter and return with it. Charlotte waited patiently for several minutes, until the sound of heavy furniture being moved overhead motivated her to follow her friend.

"Lizzy, what _are_ you doing?" Charlotte asked, taking in the sight of Elizabeth bent over looking between the dresser and the wall, with the dresser pushed out a little ways. "You will hurt your hand again if you are not careful."

"Who cares about my hand? I cannot find my letter!" Elizabeth exclaimed, pulling back from behind the dresser and bending over to look under the bed. "At least, I cannot find all of it. I put the letter and the envelope here on the dresser when I changed after my walk, but one of the pages, the very first one, is missing." And she actually lay down on the floor to put her whole head under the bed. She pulled back out again after a moment, shaking her head in frustration.

"I'm sure it's here somewhere," Charlotte said with some amusement. "Did you put it in your pocket?"

"Yes, the pocket of my spencer, when I was out walking. But my spencer is not here."

"I had Sarah take it to be washed, along with your dress," Charlotte said apologetically. "Let me call her."

Sarah, when she came to the room, was also apologetic, but she was quite firm that the pockets of Elizabeth's spencer had been empty when she took the garment to the laundry. She helped Elizabeth and Charlotte examine every corner of the room, and they also searched the first floor areas where Elizabeth had been, without success.

The mystery was not solved until Charlotte asked, "Did you happen to drop it anywhere?" and Elizabeth suddenly made a sound that was half laugh, half a sound of dismay.

"Of course! I dropped the letter, all the pages and the envelope together, when I fell outside! I thought I had picked them all up, but obviously I overlooked a page."

"Then we must go now to get it," Charlotte said, beginning to move towards the front door. "It would not do to have a stranger read correspondence between you and Mr. Darcy, no matter how innocent it may be. Is your name on it? Is his?"

"It was addressed to me, it said my name at the top. I cannot remember if his name was on it at the beginning, or just at the end. I paid no attention to the heading, I was so taken with the rest. Charlotte, who would find that letter and read it? And would they know who I am?"

"Let us hope we do not find out," Charlotte answered in some dismay, opening the front door just in time to see raindrops beginning to fall. The sky had turned threatening; rain looked likely to start soon and continue for some time. Determinedly, the two ladies donned their outdoor clothes and umbrellas, and Charlotte followed Elizabeth to the offending tree root. But no letter was to be seen. After several minutes of frustrated searching they were forced by the increasing rain to return to the parsonage, where Elizabeth sat down rather helplessly on the nearest divan.

"I suppose I shall never see that page again. I can only hope that nobody else does either."

"You wanted me to read the first page in order to see his manners for myself," Charlotte reminded her. "Is his manner as offensive in the rest of the letter?"

Elizabeth forced her mind away from the missing page. She hesitated to let Charlotte read the rest of the letter because of the sections involving Miss Darcy. Charlotte already knew the contents of everything concerning Wickham. "His manner is much better by the end of the letter," she said carefully.

"But you do not wish me to read it?" Charlotte asked gently.

"I am sorry, but Mr. Darcy also confided in me in one other matter that pertains to Mr. Wickham. He gave me information which could be hurtful to another person's reputation, and he did not give me leave to share it. I prefer not to break that confidence."

"He confided something so sensitive with you, after you had turned him down and falsely accused him? My dear Lizzy, I think he must be very much in love with you. He could have walked away from you entirely, but it was clearly important to him to regain your good opinion."

"That was his pride speaking, Charlotte, nothing more. I pray you do not read more into it than there is!"

The next morning Elizabeth awoke to the sound of rain still pouring steadily outside, creating a muffled, soothing rhythm of gentle tappings all around. The chimes of the clock downstairs told her it was past time to rise and go to breakfast, but she had no desire to get up just yet. She and Charlotte had stayed up late the night before, taking advantage of Mr. Collins' absence from the parsonage to talk over everything with Darcy again and again. Mr. Collins had only returned from Rosings shortly before they retired, and now, with the rain keeping him indoors, he would be sitting downstairs in the breakfast room, tediously repeating every detail of the conversations and activities of the night before. For that recital, she could gladly wait all day, and so she stayed underneath the warm blankets, enjoying the relaxation that comes from a complete lack of obligation to do anything meaningful at all.

Suddenly she twisted her head, then sat up in order to hear better. A carriage had definitely pulled up to the parsonage door, and somebody was rapping loudly at the entry. She thought it must be something rather particular to bring someone calling at this time of the morning, before visiting hours had fairly begun, and in the poor weather. Elizabeth could hear the sound of several sets of feet moving about on the first floor, and the front door opening and then closing firmly. A strident female voice saying her name made her eyes widen in surprise, but she hardly had time to react, for already Charlotte's footsteps were climbing the steps, and a moment later she knocked and opened Elizabeth's door simultaneously.

"Lizzie, Lady Catherine is asking for you at once in the drawing room. She will absolutely not tolerate any delay, no matter what the hour. I am afraid," she added with alarm, "we now know exactly where the missing page of Mr. Darcy's letter may be found."

_**This story copyrighted 2015 by Elaine Owen. No copying or publication without author's permission.**_


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth readied herself as quickly as possible considering the early hour and the fact that she had not yet even risen for the day. Silently she chided herself for choosing this day, of all days, to stay indoors at an early hour. A monsoon outside could not be more unpleasant to face than the formidable Lady Catherine.

"Try not to say anything you will regret later," Charlotte told Elizabeth in an undertone as she led her friend to the imposing lady's presence. "Her concern is for her family's reputation; if she is aware of Mr. Darcy's offer to you she will not wish to advertise it to anyone."

"How could she not be aware?" Elizabeth asked in return, "or else, why would she be here?"

"Then tell her that you declined, and this may blow over quickly."

Elizabeth sighed heavily, resigning herself to an unpleasant interview, as they entered the room where Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins waited. Charlotte made a polite curtsey and then swiftly left.

"My dear cousin," began the ubiquitous Mr. Collins, "You have been honored with a request for an audience with Lady Catherine herself!"

Lady Catherine cut him off. "Leave us." Mr. Collins' face flushed violently red as he bowed and abruptly made his exit.

"Good morning, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth said as calmly as possible, curtseying and making her way to a seat across from her noble visitor. "I understand that you have asked to speak with me."

Lady Catherine took her seat heavily, fixing a resentful eye on Elizabeth as she did so. "We will say nothing until tea is served. I wish for no one to overhear us."

"As you wish."

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Elizabeth would make no effort to please someone who had come with so evident a desire to be unpleasant to everyone around her. Lady Catherine stared at her disapprovingly as Charlotte entered the room once again. She carefully arranged the cups and poured silently, although she caught Elizabeth's eye expressively several times when Lady Catherine could not observe her. Elizabeth had no doubt that her friend, and probably Mr. Collins, would be stationed just outside the door to the room, listening to every word between her and their noble guest. When Charlotte had left again, both ladies took up their tea cups ceremoniously. Her ladyship began the conversation.

"Miss Bennet, my presence here can be no surprise to you."

"You are mistaken. I cannot at all account for the honor of your attentions."

"You will not pretend innocence with me. I was recently, just last night, given a piece of correspondence which I believe belongs to you." Lady Catherine withdrew a page from her reticule and laid it on the table, none too gently. Elizabeth saw, with a sinking heart, that it was indeed her own missing page. Lady Catherine glared at her while Elizabeth merely looked at it on the table. She did not immediately reach for it. "Well, what have you to say for yourself?" her visitor finally demanded.

"Your ladyship is all consideration, to take the time to return this to me personally. I thank you."

"Miss Bennet, do you mean to trifle with me?' Lady Catherine asked, looking at her severely.

Elizabeth remained coolly composed. "I mean nothing more than to thank you for your prodigious care for my reputation. If you know that that is a letter to me, then you must know that it was addressed to me by a gentleman, and I can assure you that I have no wish to make either the letter's existence, or its contents, more generally known. It is a relief to have the letter back in my possession, where it may be protected from unfriendly eyes."

Lady Catherine looked at her angrily.

"Miss Bennet, I am not ignorant of the machinations of young women of no fortune! That letter is from my nephew! You knew that one of my servants would find it, and give it to me. Your name was on it as the recipient, and you must have realized I would recognize Darcy's handwriting. Surely that was your plan, to ensure that everyone knows of his letter to you, so that you can entrap him into a marriage?"

Elizabeth's mouth nearly hung open at this unexpected and unwelcome interpretation. For a moment she struggled between dismay and outright laughter. "I can assure you, Lady Catherine, that I had no such thought. The letter was dropped by mistake. I am glad to have it safely back in my keeping, and am only sorry that you may have read it, and misconstrued what you read."

"Normally it would be beneath my dignity to read a letter taken from another gentlewoman," Lady Catherine said condescendingly, "or to reveal its contents to anyone else. I would not stoop to such measures. But of course I had to understand what was given to me, when my servant said he saw your name on the page. Do I understand correctly, that my nephew made you an offer, and that you refused him? Is it true that you found both his sentiments and his offers disgusting?"

"With all due respect, your ladyship may ask questions, which I may or may not see fit to answer. The letter is a private matter between Mr. Darcy and me."

"You will not hide such a thing from _me_! It is clear from this page, Miss Bennet, that Darcy made you an offer of some sort, and between an unattached gentleman and an unattached gentleman's daughter, there is only one offer to be made."

"I repeat, madam, that this is a private matter. If you wish to know more, you will have to apply to Mr. Darcy."

"But Darcy is in town, and you are here. I insist on knowing everything at once. Tell me now: does an understanding exist between you and my nephew?"

Elizabeth debated with herself briefly. She had no desire to give Lady Catherine the satisfaction of an answer, thus rewarding her impertinence, but telling her the truth of his proposal, and her refusal, might convince her that she need not impose on Elizabeth any longer. At length she admitted, reluctantly, "If you have read that page, then you know what happened without applying to me. I was made an offer, and I chose not to accept it. Mr. Darcy, I am sure, would be very willing to reassure you that there is no understanding between us, nor is there ever likely to be. That is all I have to say on the subject, and I beg your ladyship to importune me no more."

If Elizabeth had expected her declaration to make Lady Catherine decamp at once she was sorely disappointed.

"I do not know which circumstance could be more shocking or appalling; that my nephew would condescend to make an offer to the likes of you, or that you would have the temerity to turn him down! But perhaps I should not be so surprised. I am told it is the custom nowadays for fashionable young ladies to decline suitable proposals at least once before accepting it, in order to fan the ardor of their suitors. Turning him down now may be a part of your strategy. You may be trying to entice him into a better offer. Tell me at once if this is your desire."

Mr. Collins had stated much the same idea, when Elizabeth had refused his proposal. It was clear, now, who had put such a strange notion of female behavior in his head.

"Upon my word! I assure you that I have never heard of such a practice among fashionable young ladies, and if it is in existence, then please do me the honor of thinking me less than fashionable! I have no such strategy, towards Mr. Darcy or any other man. It would be a strange tactic indeed, to take such a chance as declining an eligible offer in the hopes that the gentleman in question might renew his addresses later."

"It would seem _very_ strange, to a person of good breeding," Lady Catherine retorted. "But among _your_ class, no doubt such stratagems are more common."

Elizabeth felt her anger rise at this, but before she could think of a suitable reply, Lady Catherine continued. "Tell me, Miss Bennet, how did you manage to attract Darcy's attention? Your looks are well enough but they are nothing out of the common way, and your connections and fortune do not add to your charm. Your family in particular are nothing to impress. You must be much more clever than I first gave you credit for."

"I made no effort to attract his attention, your ladyship," Elizabeth answered, indignantly, but determined to outlast this onslaught of demeaning remarks. "I had no such desire."

Lady Catherine looked at her incredulously. "Surely you realized what an alliance with my nephew would mean. Any young woman in your situation would gladly accept him. I flatter myself that there could scarcely be a more eligible man in all England than Fitzwilliam Darcy. His family fortune is splendid, and he comes from an ancient, though untitled line. Your own situation in life would be decidedly improved by such a connection. The entail on your father's estate would mean nothing at all in the face of such a change in circumstances, and the benefit to your sisters would be immeasurable. And you mean for me to believe that you turned all of this down?"

Elizabeth was sorely tempted to tell Lady Catherine that Darcy's manners were too much like his aunt's for her to accept, but having abused Darcy so abominably to his face, she found she could not now criticize him to his relatives. Suddenly inspired, she spoke with absolute solemnity. "I _was_ tempted to give my consent at first, but I realized very quickly, madam, what your ladyship would think of such a connection."

Lady Catherine looked at her with a puzzled expression. Elizabeth continued.

"The advantages of a marriage with your nephew could never outweigh the disapproval of his family. Without your approbation, we would be outcasts from society. Even you, as devoted to him as you are, would never speak his name again. Such a degradation would be insupportable, and even when weighed against the material advantages you have mentioned, the greater exposure to society, and all the other benefits of such a union, I found myself unable to accept him."

Lady Catherine pursed her lips, and appeared to look at Elizabeth with a very different expression. "You appear to be a sensible young lady, Miss Bennet," she said after several moments, "and much more reasonable than I had expected to find. I am gratified to find that you know your place in society, and have no wish to quit it." Elizabeth nodded gravely in acknowledgement but said nothing.

"Doubtless you were also thinking of all the attentions I have paid to you in the last six weeks, and the benefits of exposure to the superior society in which you have been placed. Certainly you were grateful to me."

"Your attentions have indeed been remarkable, your ladyship," Elizabeth agreed, with impressive gravity.

"Then too, you remembered that Darcy is destined for my Anne, and you had no wish to interfere with their union."

"I have no desire at all to interfere with their marriage," Elizabeth answered, even more solemnly than before. "I believe she will make Mr. Darcy a very proper wife. I will gladly wish them all possible happiness upon their marriage, when that day comes."

Lady Catherine nodded, seeming mollified, now, by Elizabeth's words. "You will, of course, speak of my nephew's offer to no one," she added. "It is imperative that nobody else know of his offer, or of the existence of his letter. The letter, especially, invites inquiry and speculation. It could be interpreted the wrong way, and taken as confirmation of a liaison between you. It could compromise you utterly. You will destroy it at your earliest opportunity."

Irritated by her manner, Elizabeth instantly resolved that she would _never_ destroy the letter. But she made no outward objection.

Lady Catherine continued without interruption. "It is imperative that Darcy not be exposed to you again. He will make the proper overtures to my daughter, if he does not have you to distract him. It is not likely that you and he shall meet again, but if you do, you must avoid his company at all costs."

"A most convenient directive," thought Elizabeth.

"Under no circumstances are you to allow a private audience with my nephew again. You must do nothing to invite his further attentions, so that his good sense may quickly overcome this temporary lapse of judgment. And if he does manage to make his addresses again, you will convince him how utterly unsuitable you, your family, and your entire situation are for such a role in life." Elizabeth stiffened, feeling her good humor fading, but Lady Catherine continued.

"Lastly, you must remove yourself from Hunsford at once. Darcy is in town now, but there is no way to know when he may return here, and he should not be exposed to your influence again before he has had a chance to escape it. My coach shall deliver you to your uncle's as soon as you are packed."

At this last insult, not just to her but to Charlotte, Elizabeth felt her indignation flare. Interruption was now absolutely necessary. She set her cup down on the table, and then took up the page of Darcy's letter which lay beside it, folding it carefully before speaking.

"Your ladyship, I have been as accommodating as I possibly can be, probably more accommodating than you would find most people in these circumstances. But please allow me to say that your efforts to unite Mr. Darcy with your niece are ill-considered, overbearing, and very likely to fail. I am merely one acquaintance of Mr. Darcy's, one of many women he has known or may know in the future. Do you truly believe that _I_ am the reason he has made no offer for Miss de Bourgh before now? If he sees me no more, do you think he will suddenly settle on someone whom he could have chosen years ago, if he so desired? I have no desire to accept him, but behavior such as this is not likely to recommend your daughter to him."

Lady Catherine at once recovered all her former anger. "He was on the point of making an offer, until he met you!" she cried. "You, with your cunning tricks and stratagems, have made him forget his duty!"

"By what authority do you believe that I employed any tricks or strategies? If Mr. Darcy is determined not to marry his cousin, why should he not choose another? And if he decides to choose another, why should I not be that one?"

"So I was right!" Lady Catherine looked more triumphant than indignant. "You, with your inferior breeding, your lack of connections, and your miserable fortune, are determined to have him after all!"

"You have insulted me in every way possible, madam," Elizabeth said, angrily, "and you have chosen to humiliate me further by casting me out of my friend's home, when I have done nothing to deserve such treatment. My only possible offense can be that I received an offer of marriage from an eligible gentleman. I must beg you to allow me to end this interview. We can have nothing further to say to one another."

"Not so fast! You will answer my question first. Are you determined to marry Darcy?"

Elizabeth debated with herself briefly. "I am not," she answered firmly.

Lady Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. "And will you promise me, never to enter into an engagement with him?"

"I will do no such thing." At Lady Catherine's indignant gasp, she continued. "I am determined _not_ to marry Mr. Darcy, your ladyship. At present I can think of few men I would rather marry less. But I _am_ determined to act in a way that will prove the most likely path for my happiness, without any reference to you or to anyone so completely unconnected to me."

Lady Catherine rose and marched to the other side of the room before turning to face Elizabeth with a look of utter disdain. "What else did Darcy write in his note to you? This was only the first page, I take it. Where is the rest of it?"

Elizabeth's breath caught. "You have said it would be beneath your dignity to read a gentlewoman's correspondence."

"And so it would. But you can hardly be called a gentlewoman, with such behavior as this. I will see it destroyed, the entire letter, before I leave this house."

"Then you will have to do so without my assistance." Elizabeth said, standing in her turn so that she could face her ladyship on a more equal footing. As angry as she was, she realized that Lady Catherine must be completely desperate to even consider such a drastic step. Would Mr. Collins cooperate with his patroness to such an extent? She thought he probably would. But Lady Catherine had reached the limits of how far she would abase herself.

"Very well, then, I shall know how to act," she said. "The letter can easily be explained as the foolish concoction of a mercenary young woman, should you choose to publicize it."

Elizabeth nearly rolled her eyes, but Lady Catherine continued. "You will be ready to leave this house within the hour. My driver will wait outside to take you as soon as you are packed. If I were not so desirous to be sure you are gone, I would not even give you that much attention. I will extend no compliments to your family and give you no invitation to return. I am most seriously displeased with you."

Her ladyship began to make her exit, but before she left she turned to make one final statement to Elizabeth, drawing herself up to her full height. "You say that you are not engaged to Darcy at this moment, and I can only hope that is true. But if I ever find that an engagement does exist, rest assured I shall do all in my power to prevent such a marriage from actually occurring."

With that, the great lady left the room, and Elizabeth heard her gain the front door and go through it with remarkable speed. To her relief, the door was not slammed. Her nerves could not have taken one more upsetting event.

"My dear friend," Charlotte said compassionately, reappearing in the room with such speed that Elizabeth knew her earlier suspicion was correct, and giving her a sisterly embrace. "I am so sorry this has happened to you. Are you quite all right?"

Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. "I am well. That conversation went better than I thought it would."

"Better! How could it possibly have gone any worse?"

"The missing page could have been found by someone else, by someone who would not care about its effects on me and would be happy to spread gossip. Lady Catherine was insulting, but at least we know she will not speak of this to anyone else, and since neither of us wishes for me to marry Mr. Darcy, my reputation is as safe as it can be, even if _she_ does not believe it! She has no reason to publicly tie me to Mr. Darcy in such a way, and the letter, the entire letter, is now back in my possession. We can be sure, now, that the worst is over."

_**This story has now been published on Amazon and will be available for sale starting October 12, 2015.**_


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